Author: Robyn Carr
Coach Rayborough shook his head, looking down. “There’s more to it than that,” he said. “I’ve always tried to impress on the kids that there’s more to it than just winning. It’s about making your school and your parents and your town proud, and that goes beyond the field.”
Cooper took a drink from his beer. Then he asked, “Have you thought this through? Maybe you’re just disappointed. You have a right to be—you were as let down as anyone in learning that your team captain was felonious. But the boys—they held it together through some pretty rugged stuff.”
“I went to his sentencing hearing today,” the coach said solemnly. “I watched a boy not yet eighteen sentenced to prison and he still smirked and laughed as he was being led away. There’s evil there. And I never saw it.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Cooper asked.
“Dupre, for one,” Coach said. “The kids in this town need good coaching, good role models. Most of ’em come from simple families—fishermen, small business owners, folks with jobs out of town, public servants. These aren’t rich folks. Their kids need scholarships if they can get ’em. They all work, with few exceptions. They get through high school struggling for the best grades, hold part-time jobs and if they’re athletic or musical, they put a lot of time and heart into developing those skills to help them land scholarships. We’ve been real lucky—we’ve turned out some damn fine athletes. There have only been a couple of pros out of Thunder Point, but there have been a lot of college degrees.”
“Cooper,” Mac said. “How’s your game?”
His eyes widened and he snapped to attention. “My game?” He laughed. “First of all, I have a year and a few credits of college and that’s it. I could teach just about anyone how to fly a helicopter, but not much else. Second, I played sandlot football—I could catch a ball if someone walked across the parking lot and handed it to me. Is that why you wanted me to come over? Hoping I could step up? Because, man, I love the game but...but I love the game enough to stay the hell out of the coaching business.”
“Actually, I wanted to call you because of Landon,” Mac said. “He’s got a lot riding on his senior year.”
“No kidding,” Cooper said. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, you’re his mentor,” Mac said. “You’re his closest adult male influence. He probably can talk to you about things he can’t really talk to Sarah about. He might be in the market for some serious moral support. I’m sure he’s counting on the coach being there.”
Cooper shot Coach Rayborough a look. “Listen, I get that you’ve had about enough. I understand, seriously. But if there’s not a decent coach on scene...”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said, but he was shaking his head. “My best just isn’t so great these days. I thought you could bring this up with Sarah. Of course, she and Landon should call me if they want to talk, but there’s plenty of time before practice starts at the end of summer for them to look around. There are other schools and even private schools in the general area and if—”
“Like you said, Coach—Landon had a hard time settling in here, but now he’s established. He has good grades, the boy’s got serious game and there’s the girlfriend, not to mention other friends.” He shook his head. “I don’t see him volunteering to change schools for his senior year. Matter of fact, I had to do that because of my dad’s job and I still remember how tough it was.” He drank some of his beer. “We’ll just have to hope for the best. You probably know every coach and teacher in the county and beyond. You have any ideas?”
“There’s some talent out there, but even though we’re a good school and a tough team, we’re small. Starting pay isn’t impressive. I’ll start doing some serious asking around, but we’re probably going to draw attention from young men without a great deal of experience or an exciting track record. Those folks tend to head for the colleges, then the bigger universities.”
“And why didn’t you leave, Coach?” Cooper asked.
“I like it here,” he said with a shrug. “I like the high school kids—I like taking the raw talent with minimal funding and working it hard, molding it into something bigger than this little seaside town. I like watching those kids come off the field like rockets, all lit up after they’ve taken down one of the big schools—big schools from districts with money to spend. When we do it, it’s harder. But it means more.”
Cooper leaned toward him. “You shouldn’t quit until you find the right person to take over.”
“I won’t let the town or the school down, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m discouraged. I don’t mind telling you—I’m tired. It takes a lot of positive energy to crank up those boys. I’m better off assisting, not trying to lead. Not right now. Now you just talk to Landon and his sister. Tell ’em to call me if they need to, but fill ’em in. Landon—he’s a leader. If he chooses to stay at this school, on this team, he could make a difference. If he chose another team, I’d understand. Anyone would understand.”
“Let me just ask you something,” Cooper said. “Why do you want me to talk to him? Why don’t you just talk to him?”
“Because he’d see in one second that I’m giving up. That isn’t the best message for a kid who’s gonna have a lot on his shoulders if he picks this town. But you can do it, Cooper. Mac says the boy relies on you. And I know he’s got the heart if he has the backing.”
Cooper finished his beer. He regretted that he’d given Landon the job—he’d be at the bar, washing dishes, sweeping up, running food to tables, serving up sodas or bottled drinks, smiling like a kid who’d won the lotto. And after the heavy lifting was done for the day, Cooper was going to tell him his coach was quitting and break his heart.
When he got back to his place, Landon was sitting at one of the tables in the bar, apron on, books open. There were a couple of people out on the deck and they’d been served. It had been Cooper who suggested that if things were quiet and Rawley was caught up, he use the time to get some of his homework done. Soon enough they’d hit their busy time when the sun started down over the Pacific and Landon would be on his feet.
Wouldn’t it be nice if he could put off this news about the coach until school was out for the summer. But, if Coach Rayborough was giving a letter to the school board so they could post the job and get busy looking at possible candidates, word would get out. Mac was going to tell Eve that night; Cooper should tell Landon so he’d have time to think.
And then as if the universe conspired, Sarah showed up at about eight o’clock, just as the last of the customers was leaving.
“Maybe we could heat up a couple of pizza slices or something?” she said. And then she immediately said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but I have to talk to you and Landon. Is everyone gone from the deck?”
“There were a couple of people leaning on the deck rail, looking at the bay, but I think they’re about to go. Landon picked up their glasses and dishes. What’s up?”
He was behind the bar; she was sitting up on a stool facing him. He poured her a glass of wine while Landon bustled his dishes back to the kitchen.
“I had a beer with Mac and Coach Rayborough this afternoon. The coach—he’s worn down by all the trouble last year, by the fact that he had a player in trouble and missed all the signals. I think he’s just worn out, to tell you the truth. He’s getting on in years and the kids kind of—”
“Cooper!”
He leaned on the bar. “He’s going to retire, Sarah,” he said. “It’s not public yet, but he hopes there will be a new coach in place by the end of summer and he was real honest—he’s too tired for this. A new coach could be inexperienced and young. Rayborough could assist, but he’d rather just move on. He suggested that you and Landon might consider other schools, even private schools, where Landon could get the most and the best—”
He stopped when Sarah closed her eyes, tilted her head back and her lips took on that twisted, tortured look of someone who was fighting tears. She lost the fight, of course—a couple of big ones escaped and she wiped at them furiously.
“Baby?” he asked in a whisper.
“God, could the kid catch a break?” she whispered back. “Just when he’s weathered some of his toughest days, the winning coach who’s going to bring him out as quarterback for his senior year, showcase him and set him up for a scholarship...”
“It’s not the only game in town, Sarah. Plus there’s scholarship and grant money out there—there are good loans at the moment. And hell, I’d help. You know I’d...”
She just shook her head. “Napkin?” she asked. He handed her one and she blew her nose. Then she fanned her face with her fingers. And then Landon was back from the bar.
Landon had taken off his apron and had his backpack over on shoulder. “Need anything else, Cooper?”
“Yeah, just one more thing. I have some news to pass along. I’m glad your sister is here because I said I’d tell her, too.” Then he went through the details, the suggested options, the challenges and possible changes. “The coach said if you have a lot riding on this season, you should at least consider other schools....”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shaking his head. Then he looked at his sister. “Not unless we have to, but God I hope we don’t have to.”
“Landon, if you don’t have a good coach or a solid team, it could really affect your ability to get noticed, to get help with tuition....”
“Then I’ll borrow money. Hey, maybe I’ll go Coast Guard or Army or something. But if I don’t have to, I’m not leaving town. We have a good team—we have a good little town. I have friends here. There’s Eve...” Then he looked at Cooper. “Is Coach all right?”
“He’s okay, Landon. He’s been coaching forty years now—he’s a little worn out. Last year was a bad year for him—he took things with Jag real personally. He said he’ll hang close to help the new coach. He said if you don’t consider your options, you’re going to have one helluva load on your shoulders. Teammates will expect a lot from you. He also said to call him if you want to talk about it, but he asked me to tell you because we’re...” He stopped for a minute. Then he shrugged. “Because we’re friends and I never miss a game.” He smiled.
“Does Eve know?” he asked.
Cooper nodded. “Mac’s going to tell her, but listen—it’s not official. You can talk to Eve, but you have to sit on this for a little while, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll talk to Eve. Then I’ll call Coach. It’s okay. I bet he doesn’t go anywhere. I’m not going to freak out. We have a good team. I know that. I know it.” Then he looked at Sarah. “I’ll leave you the Razor to take home. I need the walk. And the think.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“I think I’d rather not talk about it yet. But it’s okay. Really, it’s going to be okay.”
When Carrie asked her closest friend, Lou McCain, if she could help cater the Downys’ anniversary party, Lou smiled. “I’d much rather serve than attend as a guest.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carrie said. “Of course, if you’ve been invited, you have to go! I’ll find someone else.”
“Don’t be silly. I want to serve. That noodle-head Marjorie sent an invitation to me and another to Mac—both said no additional guests. She knows perfectly well that Mac and Gina are a couple. Does she think Mac wants to go with his old-maid aunt? I think she’s getting a little too big for her britches.”